


Scatter the Night

by owlish_peacock



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: 1920s AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-26 21:08:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14410605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlish_peacock/pseuds/owlish_peacock
Summary: 1920's New York City. Mystery shrouds the night, and no one is ever what they seem. Intrigued by a mysterious woman in a night club, Jamie finds himself wandering the nights in hopes of a glimpse of her. But, the glamour and beauty of the city hide secrets and danger in their recesses. "But like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living."





	1. Chapter 1

The room was too small, thick with the humidity of body heat and human sweat. They were beasts—all of them—with their eyes glazed with illicit liquor and barely-contained lust. Embers burned on the ends of suggestively pursed lips and lit the cell-like room with a sunset glow.

Jamie didn’t belong here. There was no place for a Scottish farm boy within the smoky speakeasies of New York. And yet, here he was. Hoping for a new beginning, hoping for a different ending.

No, he shouldn’t be here. But, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

It was intoxicating, the swarm of bodies and drink, swirling about him to expand his own edged mind. Drifting lazily amongst the tables, Jamie found himself on the fringe of the club. His first night here, and he was already a wallflower.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” The voice that pierced his mind held a recognizable timbre, a lilting contrast to the harsh New York rasp. It reminded him of home.

The woman was a stranger, though, a barely visible presence that seemed to haunt the corners of the club.

“From the sound of it, neither are ye.”

“I’ve been here long enough. But you… you’re green. Poor little bunny.” She took a drag of her cigarette, casting a dim, red glow upon her face. She might have been pretty, but the shadows were too strong, and left her a mere silhouette against the carnal earth. “What’s a nice Scottish boy like you doing here? Is it the liquor? The women? I’m sure all the  _lassies_  would lose their minds for that accent.”

“That’s none of yer business, Ma’am.”

“Ma’am?!” She screeched, teeth flashing against the darkness. “You’re definitely not from around here!”

Embarrassment colored his face. Was he really so obvious? And who was this woman to call him out on it? He was just trying to start fresh, and it seemed like he already failed.

“I’ll take my leave now. Good evening to ye.”

“Oh! Don’t get so twisted up about it!” The woman had taken a step out of the shadows, illuminating half of her face. Jamie saw a glimpse of champagne eyes and a mischievous mouth. “I’d just thought I’d come to the aid of a fellow expat. Can I give you a word of advice? This isn’t Scotland. It’s New York, and it isn’t very pretty. Trust no one, because nothing here is free. Nothing.”

“Nothing? So, what’ll yer advice cost me?”

She laughed, a genuine sound that crinkled her eyes. “I’ll have to take a rain check on that. You shouldn’t be hard to find. But, if you’ll excuse me, I need to see a man about a dog.”

Then, she was gone, off to swim away in bootleg. And Jamie was left standing in the veil of her smoke.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun rose gently in watercolor hues. Claire’s heels clacked against the gravel, tearing through the early morning silence. It was her favorite time of day; the bootleggers had long since called it a night, and the working folk had yet to begin their day. She was alone on the dim city street, an uncommon occurrence in New York. **  
**

Sighing, she leaned her head back, letting the sun paint her skin in orange glow. Peace. It was a distant thing, hiding in recesses. Claire wondered if the world had ever been as peaceful as this New York sunrise. No, she supposed it hadn’t.

But, peace was fleeting. It scattered with the stars, disappearing as they faded into the light. And Claire had to go home, to a hollow place crowded with empty hearts.

***

Frank’s body lie slumped on the sofa, an amber bottle clutched in his hands. Claire thanked the lord that he was still asleep, for she could not imagine the beratement she would receive had she returned home when he was awake. Especially when he was so far in the bottle.

“Frank? Dear?” Placing a light hand upon his shoulder, she gently prodded him into the waking world. “It’s near 6 am. You’ve got to wake up.”

A groan escaped him, but he did not budge.

“Frank, please. You’ve got work in an hour.”

Another groan. “Alright, alright woman. Stop pestering me. I haven’t missed a day of work yet, have I?”

“Only because I wake you up everyday.”

He rounded on her, unkempt hair flying into his eyes. “Don’t talk back to me.”

“Then don’t say stupid things.”

A third groan. He huffed, clenched his fists, and stalked off to the washroom, leaving Claire alone. She fell on the sofa, covering her eyes with a pillow. 

_Thank God._

Claire and Frank Randall were a beautiful couple, with a loveliness that hid the unkindness within their home. They were brought together by breeding and convenience, and stayed together by their desire for a larger life. Frank was a solid player at a major law firm—Fairfax and Abbot—while Claire become well-known throughout the city’s nightclubs. They had found themselves in their respective worlds, but lost each other in the process.

Threats were made, insults were exchanged. And yet, neither left. Frank’s reputation would surely suffer should he leave his wife. And Claire… Well, Claire didn’t have the money to go anywhere else.

So, there she stayed, curled on the sofa with nothing but imagination and memories to keep her hope afloat. 

 _Soon,_ she thought, mind shifting to the stack of cash she kept hidden under the wardrobe.

Sighing, she settled deeper within the sofa, drifting in and out of sleep. Images of saffron curls and jeweled eyes danced behind her lids.


End file.
